


Finding your Strength, Finding your Voice

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kidfic, Language and Translation, M/M, Rivals to Lovers, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not always what you say or how you say it, but who is there to listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding your Strength, Finding your Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kultiras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kultiras/gifts).



> A bookstore AU with a twist originally requested by kultiras as part of the 3 sentence meme, but I couldn't contain it. (Sorry it's so late.)
> 
> Also a four corners extra for my trope_bingo card.

Phil happily has David Sullivan's tongue in his mouth, dueling with his own, when the alert on his phone rings in his pocket and startles them apart. 

_Damn_ , they both think as Phil pulls back and starts straightening his clothes. He can't go to work looking like he's been making out with his boyfriend. Phil may be seventeen and horny as hell, but he takes his responsibilities very seriously. 

_Stay_ , David asks and tries to pull Phil close again.

“I can’t,” Phil says out loud, “I have to get to work. There’s a new student starting today.”

_Aren't I more important than a bunch of dumb kids?_ David pouts and Phil recoils. 

"No you really aren't," Phil replies scathingly, extracting himself from David's grabbing hands. "I thought you understood how important my job was to me?"

“I do! I didn’t mean it. Come on, Phil, don’t be like that,” David implores. “You just had me all worked up. You can’t blame me for wanting more of you.”

Phil hesitates on his way out the door and David takes advantage of it to give Phil a sweet kiss and a smile. “It’s kind of hot how much you want to take care of those kids. So go and I’ll talk to you tonight.”

“Okay,” Phil relents, giving David a quick peck on the cheek before rushing out the door.

He makes it to the library only two minutes late and shrugs apologetically at Mrs. Stratford, who is waiting for him in one of the back study rooms with a young boy that must be Phil’s new student.

“Clint,” Mrs. Stratford says to the boy with a smile, “this is Phil, my student assistant. He’s going to help you with your lessons.”

Phil sits at the table and gives Clint an encouraging smile as Mrs. Stratford leaves them alone.

Learning a telepathic language is actually much more difficult than learning a spoken one because you have no feedback loop. You can’t hear your own voice or record how you’re speaking. The only way to know whether you’re conveying the word for dog instead of buffalo is to have someone receive the thought and tell you if you’ve gotten it right. It’s why telepathic development is so critical in children as early as infancy and why it is so difficult to help older kids who somehow skipped or had trouble with that stage of their education. 

Phil is that feedback loop. Some of the institutes that specialize in telepathic studies have come up with new tech that can monitor brain activity, but talking to a computer isn’t the same as talking to a person and the kids Mrs. Stratford helps can’t afford an institute anyway. Phil had stumbled onto the job at the library the summer before his freshman year. He’d quickly learned that he had a knack with the kids and got a lot of satisfaction in helping them find their inner voices.

“Hi, Clint,” Phil says, making sure to speak both vocally and mentally. “My name is Phil Coulson. I’m seventeen and a senior at the high school.”

_How old are you?_ Phil asks, testing. 

Clint scribbles something on a piece of paper and slides it across the table at Phil. _12_ , it says and Phil looks up to see the kid’s eyes shining with intelligence and a fair amount of stubborn challenge. The eyes themselves are beautiful kaleidoscope of blues, greens, and golds and Phil can’t help thinking that Clint is going to be gorgeous if he grows into even half the promise in those eyes.

“Smartass,” Phil mutters good naturedly, sending a totally different thought mentally and startling a surprised bark of laughter from Clint.

Clint immediately shrinks into himself when he realizes what he’s done, making Phil’s heart clench in his chest even as he purposely ignores it and pulls out the lesson plan Mrs. Stratford left them. The only thing Phil knows about Clint is that his foster parents had believed he was non-telepathic until the night he’d woken the entire house, mentally screaming from a horrible nightmare. 

“The first few lessons will just be my reading to you,” Phil tells Clint and slides closer to the boy. “The idea is for you to connect how words are written, spoken, and thought. Let’s get started…”

Considering Clint’s aversion to communicating both verbally and mentally, it’s not a surprise that Mrs. Stratford chose very basic worksheets and books for them to read from. By the end of their first hour-long session, even Phil is bored.

“Phil?” Clint asks tentatively at the start of their third session a few days later and Phil manages not to startle at hearing the boy’s voice, delivered at just over a whisper. 

“Yes, Clint?” Phil answers, equally quiet.

“Could we maybe read a different book today?” Clint asks and Phil can’t help the image that pops in his head of Oliver Twist asking for more gruel. 

Phil lets out an exaggerated sigh and grins at Clint. “Yes! Thank you for asking. I think my brain was going numb. What did you want to read instead?”

Clint doesn’t answer, but reaches into his backpack and pulls out an old, battered copy of the first Harry Potter book.

“Awesome!” Phil grins again and begins to read. 

At the end of the session, Phil is once again surprised when Clint’s clear and amazingly musical inner voice rings through his mind.

_Grateful you_ , he says and then immediately makes a face, knowing he’s said something wrong.

Phil puts a reassuring hand on Clint’s shoulder and smiles. _You’re welcome. It was definitely more fun than the worksheets. We’ll start working on the rest of it next week._

Clint gives him a fleeting grin before ducking his head and leaving the room.

~^~

Harry Potter is a turning point for them and Phil can’t help being enamored by Clint’s intellect and hidden smartass tendencies. Phil tries not to encourage him too much, but a piece of him cheers each time Clint relaxes a bit more to expose his true nature. From what Mrs. Stratford tells him, Clint’s foster parents are doing everything they can to draw Clint out of his protective shell, so Phil knows it’s not just him who has been well and truly charmed.

Phil has worked with the kids long enough to know that they’re all special in their own way, but Clint is special in a way that doesn’t compare to anyone else. Phil finds himself reaching out to Clint, spending time with the troubled pre-teen before and after their sessions. They spend hours together sharing their favorite books and discussing their thoughts on the characters and plots, what they think the authors had done right and what storylines they wished they could have more of. Phil even breaks a date with David to take Clint to a book signing by one of their favorite authors a few towns over. 

They’ve become friends, so it’s a surprise when Phil walks in one day to find a sullen and clearly upset Clint waiting for him. Clint refuses to talk verbally or telepathically, despite Phil’s continued prodding, so Phil chooses to sit and wait patiently until Clint is ready to say something. Clint scowls at him and Phil stares back evenly. It takes twenty minutes before Clint breaks.

“I’m moving away!” Clint burst outs and Phil flinches at the volume of the outburst in the small room and in his head. 

“Your foster parents?” Phil asks tentatively, knowing that it’s a touchy subject.

“They’re adopting me and we’re packing up and moving to New York,” Clint says petulantly. 

Phil is stunned. On one hand, he doesn’t want Clint to move, but on the other hand…

“Clint, tell me the truth," Phil requests. "Do you like your foster parents?"

"Yeah, they're awesome," Clint answers easily. 

"Then them adopting you is a good thing, a great thing," Phil tells him. 

"But..." 

_I'll miss you_ , Clint finishes quietly in his mind and Phil leans over to wrap his arm around the younger boy's shoulders. 

_I'm gonna miss you too_ , Phil says. "But we're friends now, right? So I'll give you my email address and phone number and we'll keep in touch. I promise."

Two weeks later, Clint is gone and Phil can't help thinking, in hindsight, that their last tight hug goodbye is the last time he is truly happy. 

~^~

Everything for Phil seems to slide downward from when Clint leaves. His father gets in a horrible car accident two months before graduation and Phil is suddenly responsible for holding down a steady job, taking care of his invalid father, and finishing school so he can eventually find a better job. Phil chooses a degree in accounting over speech pathology, opting for the fastest return in the shortest amount of time. David very quickly loses patience with a boyfriend who has no time outside of his work and family obligations. Phil is too tired to really care.

Despite his promise, Phil loses track of Clint amidst the chaos that his life has become. Looking back on it two decades later, it’s his biggest regret.

Phil is now pushing ever closer to forty and working for Hydra Publishing - a company that has done well for Phil, but one he still can’t acknowledge working for with any significant sense of pride. He really shouldn’t complain. Hydra hired him as a lowly accountant, recognized his talent and work ethic, and had put him through law school. While Phil still doesn’t agree with most of their questionable business practices, he can at least make sure they stay on the right side of the law. Phil still isn’t sure what led to his becoming the Hydra President’s go-to guy. 

“I want this Barton taken out,” Strucker says menacingly to Phil one morning.

“I assume you mean figuratively,” Phil responds blandly. “I don’t believe that being president of Hydra will protect you against charges of attempted assassination.”

“I don’t care if you burn Hawkeye’s to the ground,” Strucker fumes dramatically. “He’s stealing business away from our New York store and I want him gone.”

Phil fights a sigh. In addition to its physical and online publishing core of the company, Hydra also has a large chain of bookstores in several major cities. New York had been their flagship until Hawkeye’s Books and Nooks started steadily gaining popularity, effectively drawing business away from Hydra. It defied logic - that a small, independently owned bookstore could survive against a large chain like Hydra.

Then again, Hawkeye’s is owned by Clint Barton, an author who had his own popular series of young adult novels - a fantasy series Phil secretly owns and re-reads regularly. The easy answer is that Barton is funding the store from his own income, but the numbers say otherwise. Even with Hydra continuing to drop their prices, customers still flock to Hawkeye’s and choose to pay more for the same books. 

“I know you’re still upset he refused to sign with Hydra -” Phil starts to say, but stops when Strucker growls.

The refusal is still a sore subject. Shield Publishing is the only remaining competitor that Hydra has. Strucker had recently made a play for several of Shield’s top-selling authors - the historian, Rogers, the self termed Science Brothers, Banner and Stark, mystery writer, Romanov, and Barton - offering them large sums of money and several incentives for breaking their contract with Shield. They had all declined. Phil is still thankful that he’d been on his yearly vacation home and missed all of the yelling that must have occurred. 

“There really isn’t much more we can do,” Phil tells his boss. “I’ve already cut our prices well below operating costs, set up free seminars, given out free food - the only thing keeping the New York store afloat are profits from our other stores. I’m not even mentioning your tipping off the city to send in health and safety inspectors - who found nothing. No matter what we do, the customers still prefer Hawkeye’s. It’s clear they are offering something we cannot.”

“Then find out what that is and use it to destroy him,” Strucker demands.

“You want me to fly out to New York and spy on a bookstore?” Phil asks incredulously. “I’m your lawyer, not your henchman.”

“Find out a way to take out Barton or I’ll find someone else who will,” Strucker threatens and Phil concedes that he doesn’t really have a choice but to follow orders.

~^~

Phil isn’t sure what to expect when he steps foot into Hawkeye’s, but finding it filled with children is a pleasant surprise. Hydra has strict rules about only verbal communication in the office - Phil suspects that Strucker has a stunted mental ear - so it’s comforting to absorb the happy hum of children’s voices in his mind as well as in his ears.

There is a row of parents surrounding the sea of children, but a clear, musical voice sounds in his mind before Phil can get lost in the crowd.

_Phil? Phil Coulson?_

Phil spins around automatically at the familiar voice, half expecting to see the same skinny boy from the library. The image that greets him instead takes Phil’s breath away.

The eyes that rake over him are clearly Clint’s and Phil was not mistaken about the boy having the potential to grow up gorgeous - Clint has grown into his eyes and much more. The man that stands before Phil is athletically fit, well-muscled without being stocky, has chiseled, well-defined features, and a smile that lights up the whole room.

“Oh my God! It is you!” Clint cries and Phil is enveloped in a pair of strong arms. _It’s me, Clint. From the library._

_Of course I know it’s you_ , Phil replies and wraps his own arms around his long-lost friend. 

Phil honestly doesn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged with so much force and emotion behind it. He returns the hug with equal enthusiasm until Clint pulls back, holding Phil at arms length, and grins at him.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Clint says. “Why are you here? Do you live in New York? Are one of the kids yours?” 

Clint begins to looks around at the assembled children and that is when it hits Phil that Clint Barton, the bane of his and Hydra’s existence, isn’t a random stranger, but _his_ Clint. The Clint he’d thought he’d lost all those years ago and the one friend he’d do anything to get back.

“N-n-no,” Phil stutters out. “I don’t have kids.”

Clint turns his eyes back to Phil, only to have the kids start up a chant of “Clint! Clint! Clint!”

“I have to start the reading, but please stay until after,” Clint implores. _Please stay._

Phil can only nod mutely and Clint gives him another quick hug before moving to the front of the crowded room. 

Clint’s reading of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ is enchanting and Phil is very glad to have seen it. Gone is the shy boy who barely spoke and in its place is a confident man whose inner and outer voice rings clearly out across the crowd, drawing adults and children alike into the story, and leaving them all clapping happily at its conclusion. Phil feels a stirring in a lonely corner of his heart and knows he’s falling in love.

Clint hands a copy of the book to each of the children in, extracting a promise from them and their parents that they will read from the book together. Phil’s heart swells even more at the evidence of Clint’s generosity and he forces himself not to flee as the crowd begins to disperse.

_I still can’t believe you’re here_ , Clint says when he’s back at Phil’s side. His happiness is communicated clearly through his thoughts and the wide grin splitting his face. 

Phil wonders if his answering grin looks just as goofily ecstatic, acknowledging that he has not smiled this much in years. 

“What are you doing in New York?” Clint asks as he pulls Phil to a quieter corner of the store.

Phil wants to tell the truth, but what comes out is only a close approximation. “I’m here on business. I… I’m a fan. I love your books and knew you owned this store. I just never imagined that _you_ were the famous author.”

Clint laughs - a sound Phil immediately wishes he’d heard more of when they’d been children. “Oh God, I’m far from famous. I’d forgotten you never met my foster parents. I changed my name when they adopted me. I always wondered if you’d ever read my books - if you’d recognize something and come find me.”

“I… I wish I had - earlier,” Phil says, guilt twisting in his gut at the wistful look in Clint’s eyes. 

_It doesn’t matter. You’re here now_ , Clint responds and Phil’s breath catches, realizing that Clint is still in the habit of keeping his more emotional and heartfelt words non-verbal.

_I am. I’m so glad to have found you again_ , Phil replies, pushing all thoughts of Hydra and Strucker’s ultimatum to the back of his mind. 

“Have you had dinner?” Clint asks and then continues talking excitedly. “You need to let me take you out to dinner. How long are you here? Do you have other plans? What have you been doing all these years? Does Thai for dinner sound good?”

Phil laughs at Clint’s endless string of questions and grabs one of his hands that’s gesticulating wildly as he talks. “Dinner sounds great.”

~^~

Clint and Phil spend as much time together as they can that week. They catch up on the past twenty years of each other’s lives, find the ways they’ve changed and stayed the same, and generally revel in the friendship they had once thought lost. 

If Phil takes the time to think about it, his falling deeply and madly in love with Clint Barton is years in the making and not just a product of a whirlwind, week-long romance. As his childhood friend, Phil had missed Clint in his life like a hole in his heart. As the author of Phil’s favorite books, it felt like the novels were speaking directly to Phil’s imagination. As a business rival, Phil couldn’t help but respect Clint for holding his ground and not stooping to less than savory tactics to compete against Hydra.

It feels natural to place a hand at the small of Clint’s back as they walk into a restaurant, natural to slip Clint’s hand into his own as they stroll together back to Clint’s apartment, natural to put his hand on the back of Clint’s neck to pull him in for a lingering kiss.

_Is this real?_ Clint says without breaking the kiss, leaning into Phil and wrapping his arms around him to grip at Phil’s back. _I’ve dreamed about this for so long. You’re everything and more than I ever imagined you’d be._

Clint’s words trigger Phil’s guilt and he breaks the kiss, keeping Clint in his arms so he knows that Phil isn’t pushing him away.

“There’s something I need to tell you before this goes further,” Phil says, apprehension coiling in his gut, and Clint’s eyes widen.

“Are you married?” he asks.

“No!” Phil answers in surprise. “I wouldn’t have kissed you at all if I was.”

Clint nods, pleased. “Are you a serial killer or a pedophile or planning world domination?”

“No, definitely no, and I’ve never really thought about it,” Phil responds with a shake of his head.

“Anything else can wait until morning,” Clint says and starts unbuttoning Phil’s shirt.

Phil gasps as Clint’s hand slips under the material, fingers splaying warmly across his chest. “I… ah… are you sure?”

“You don’t know, do you?” Clint asks, fingers never stopping their movements. “I had a crush on you when I was twelve, have dreamed about you ever since, and now the reality is so much better than I could have expected.”

Phil bites back a moan, struggling to maintain his train of thought, as Clint finally pushes his shirt open and leans in to kiss along his collarbone and then up his neck.

“I’m not…” Phil protests, finding it impossible to believe that someone that looks like Clint would lust after someone like him.

“You are,” Clint assures him, his lips ghosting across Phil’s jaw and cheek until they’re just hovering above his own. _Make love to me, Phil._

Phil surges up, wrapping his arms tightly around Clint and capturing his lips in a bruising kiss, no longer able to deny what his heart and body are aching to have. They somehow make it into Clint’s bedroom, shedding clothes as they go, and gasping with relief and ecstasy as their bodies finally come together. Words of love tumble unheeded from their mouths and their minds as they climb inexorably higher towards mutual release. 

They lay together afterward, sated and content, with a mantra of _I love you, I love you, I love you_ lulling them softly to sleep. Phil can no longer distinguish where his thoughts end and Clint’s begin.

~^~

They spend a lazy morning in bed, making love and enjoying the freedom to touch and stroke, kiss and lick, hold and be held.

Clint eventually hustles them out of the apartment with the promise of the best brunch in New York, despite the location. Phil remains blissfully in the dark until they settle in a small cafe across the street from Hydra Books. Clint scowls up at the towering bookstore, which is three times the size of his own store.

“I shouldn’t dwell on it,” he says after a second and turns his attention back to Phil.

“Competition pretty tough?” Phil asks, no longer sure how to bring up the subject of his employer.

“Nah,” Clint replies. “They seem to think I’m competition, but I really don’t care about that. I love my store, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I want to lose it, but I’d figure out a way to keep the readings and classes and workshops going.” He smiles at Phil. “You taught me the importance of that.”

Pride and guilt war with one another in Phil’s gut. That Clint had continued Phil and Mrs. Stratford’s work with the needy children in New York fills him with love and immeasurable pride. That Phil could have had a hand in hampering or destroying Clint’s efforts makes his stomach churn with self loathing.

“I’m mostly disgusted with myself for being so gullible,” Clint continues. “I went to Hydra just out of college, excited about making a difference. They turned me away and I never imagined they’d take my idea. I can’t even hate them for it because they actually published the books, which is way more important than my not getting credit for it.”

“You went to Hydra? What was -” Phil stops mid-sentence, his mind reeling with the sudden understanding of what Hydra stole from Clint. “The sensory books. The ones designed to help develop a child’s inner and outer voices. That… that was yours?”

Clint shrugs his shoulders, but there is no doubt in Phil’s mind that he’s telling the truth. The sensory books are one of the few things that Phil can take pride in about the company he works for. To learn that they stole it from Clint destroys the last shred of loyalty Phil has toward Hydra.

“They’re not perfect,” Clint says. “I have to supplement a lot when I use them with the kids, but they’re still better than what was available before.”

“They _stole_ from you, Clint,” Phil retorts through clenched teeth. “Why didn’t you fight?”

Clint lets out a self deprecating laugh. “Like anyone would believe some twenty-something nobody over a large corporation like Hydra.”

“I would have believed you,” Phil tells him. “I do believe you and we’re going to get control of those books back to where they belong - back to you and Shield.”

“Phil…”

_No, Clint. Let me say this_ , Phil interrupts and then takes a shaky breath. “I tried to tell you last night. I… I work for Hydra. Or I used to work for Hydra. I was sent here to figure out a way to destroy your store, destroy you. I swear to you that I had no idea about the sensory books and I will do everything in my power to right that wrong, even if you don’t want to see me again.”

Clint frowns. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?” _I love you._

“You can’t possibly be this understanding,” Phil says, reaching out to grip Clint’s hand tightly. 

“What’s there to understand?” Clint asks, turning his hand to intertwine their fingers. “It was your job. You didn’t know it was me and you didn’t know about the books. I assume you’re planning on quitting and you can make up for not telling the truth from the beginning by moving to New York and exhausting me with lots and lots of sex.”

Phil laughs. “You’re serious?”

“I never joke about sex,” Clint responds with a smirk and then sobers. _I don’t want to lose you again._

_Never_ , Phil swears and then laughs a little hysterically, overwhelmed at where his life has taken him over the past week. “Yes, I’m quitting. Yes, I’ll move to New York with you. Yes, to all the sex until neither of us can walk straight again.”

Clint laughs as a group of people walking by double-takes at Phil’s pronouncement. They lean into each other, holding each other up through their combined laughter, and everything else fades into the background. 

“I’m going to get your books back,” Phil says against Clint’s shoulder once they’ve calmed down. “Then I want to work at the store with you and help you write your next book. I want to start working with the kids again, maybe start our own mini institute. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to buy a house together and adopt a cat or two. I want… I want so many things that I don’t know where to begin.”

Phil trails off, a little breathless, and Clint uses a palm at his cheek to turn him so that their eyes meet. “Begin with me.”

_fin_


End file.
